


When Everyone Says It Can't Be Done (Ducks Fly Together)

by sergeant_angel



Category: Daredevil (TV), Hawkeye (Comics), Mighty Ducks (Movies), Young Avengers (Comics)
Genre: Bisexual Foggy Nelson, Concussions, F/M, I!! CAN'T!!! BELIEVE!! I!! WROTE!! THIS!! NONSENSE!!!, M/M, Matt and Kate accidentally acquire a boyfriend, Multi, foggy nelson is surrounded by so many nerds, foggy nelson just wants to cuddle pls, fulton reed is foggy nelson, hockey and hawkeyes, i'm trash is what happened lmao like you didn't know that, so much dumb schmoop, the baes that head injury together stay together, this was supposed to be a one-shot WHAT HAPPENED, what the frick even is this, yeah i talked about this like a million years ago and finally wrote it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-10
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-11-30 02:29:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11454099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sergeant_angel/pseuds/sergeant_angel
Summary: Foggy doesn't exactly have a secret identity, except that he sort of does.He wasn't expecting someone finding it out would be quite so...this





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fits into Nazar as far as comic/Daredevil crossover and the Matt/Kate dynamic
> 
> We're just going to assume that the Mighty Ducks films take place in New York because I said they do and I need most of the Ducks in New York. Okay? Okay. let's go.

Foggy hears a voice in the crowd—through the crowd, whatever—that he recognizes. He doesn't pay that much attention to it, honestly. After all, he's trying to help his team win a game.

Which they do. Some of them had an awesome coach as kids, and he gave them a love of the game that kept them on the ice.

He resolutely doesn't look in the direction the voice came from as they shake hands with the opposing team. Sure, it could be someone he likes, but it could also be someone he and Matt have pissed off in the past year come to kill him. Foggy feels better about his odds against a potential Fisk goon on the ice. He hasn't tried a Russ-patented knuckle puck in a while, but Foggy thinks he could manage, and keep someone occupied long enough for the cops to get here.

Or Matt. Whatever.

"Is that your girlfriend?" Connie knocks his shoulder with hers, jerking her head towards the stands.

"What?" Foggy glances to where Connie gestured, not really looking.

"The girl who was cheering for you _the whole game_ ," Adam joins in. "Is she your girlfriend?"

"I don't have a girlfriend," Foggy says distractedly, now really trying to figure out who's been cheering for him.

"Do you want us to change that? We can try to change that," Connie nudges Foggy again.

"Oh, my god." Foggy sees his fan in the stands, though he's never seen her with such a giant grin on her face. "That's my partner's girlfriend."

He wants to add _how did she find me_ but she's a PI, so he probably should have expected this.

"Whoa, that's—I didn't know you were poly," Adam, of all people, says.

"Wait, what? Oh, no. Is she sitting next to Charlie?"

"Yeah!" Adam waves enthusiastically at Charlie, who waves back before leaning towards Kate and telling her something that makes her laugh. "Hey, I know her."

"How do you know her? Wait, Adam, come on, man--"

Adam ignores Foggy in favor of grinning at his boyfriend and waving again like he's a lovestruck highschooler. Charlie waves back with a little less enthusiasm but with a sappier expression, so it evens out.

Kate and Charlie pick their way down the stands to the ice. 

Foggy is about to ask how Charlie's high school team is doing when he finally gets a good look at Kate. He jabs his finger at her. "Who did that?"

"What?"

" _She does not need that shirt_."

"Uh, yes, I do, Foggy, and you know it."

The Hell's Kitchen Hawks colors are purple and green, so she does actually need it. The only way she could need it _more_ is if they had an arrow in their logo. Foggy understands this. He might not get all of her weird Hawkeye-ness, but he understands what seem to be the most important parts of being a Hawkeye: purple, arrows, being a nerd, and getting beaten up at least once a month. "Okay, but where did you _get_ it?" He asks helplessly.

"I paid good cash money for it, Franklin."

Foggy feels the weight of his teammate's expectant gazes and ignores it for the moment. Kate is leaning against the edge of the rink, looking at him with what might be delight, and Foggy isn't sure if her expression is making him feel nauseated or thrilled. He's just about to ask her what in the world is going on when she speaks first.

"Foggy, you're an _enforcer._ "

"Yeah? So?"

"He's a great enforcer," Charlie enthuses.

"Striking terror into hearts since peewee league," Connie punches him in the shoulder. He imagines the three of them exchanging looks, congratulating themselves on talking Foggy up in a _we're such great wingmen aaayyy hockey pun_ kind of way.

Kate's grin gets bigger.

"You know hockey?" Foggy stumbles over the question.

"How do you not know your girlfriend likes hockey?"

"Oh my _god_ , Adam, she's not my girlfriend."

"Hey, you should come out and get drinks with us," Connie completely ignores everything Foggy is saying.

"Oh, no," Kate waves her hands like she's brushing aside the suggestion. "I haven't been home in like, two weeks. And I don't want to impose or anything--"

"Two weeks?" Foggy interrupts. "I saw you last week."

"Yeah, I had a surveillance job here and then a job...elsewhere."

Elsewhere, which is probably code for the other thing she does that he's not supposed to know about. "If I hear about a government being toppled I know who to blame."

"Don't be silly, Foggy. I don't work for the CIA."

"My bad." Foggy doesn't know how she keeps all the different versions of herself separate. Heiress, secret agent, vigilante, private investigator.

There are bags under her eyes and the more he looks the more he can see her foundation flaking off to reveal bruises on her face. If she didn't look like she'd gotten hit by a truck—and it's Hawkeye, so there's nothing saying she _wasn't_ hit by a truck--Foggy isn't sure if he'd mind Kate coming to get drinks with them. Sometimes he's not sure if he actually likes Kate or if he just dislikes her in a knee-jerk reaction sort of way because she knew something about Matt that Foggy didn't.

"Go get some rest, Kate."

"Yeah, okay."

He's probably making up the relief in her voice, or the way her shoulders slump when he says it, like she was just waiting for someone to tell her to be a normal person for five seconds. Foggy mentally shakes himself, skating closer to the edge of the rink, leaning closer to her so his nosy teammates can't listen in. "Hey, Kate--"

"I won't tell anyone," she smiles, but it doesn't reach her eyes. "Your secret identity is safe with me."

Foggy finds himself grinning back at her even as he shakes his head. "You're a dork."

"I don't have to take this kind of verbal abuse from a _jock_ ," she retorts.

"Hey," he says before he can think better of it. "You can still come to games if you want."

This time her smile is real, it changes her whole face, and it makes the whole thing worth it, even if it _is_ a bad idea.

* * *

Kate shows up to their next game.

Foggy realizes a few things about Kate then:

Kate is very, very loud.

Kate also has a lot of purple in her wardrobe to supplement her team logo shirt. For a woman whose life sometimes depends on her ability to blend in, she sure seems to enjoy standing out.

When she sees him looking at her, she waves. Foggy waves back before he can stop himself.

"What?" He snaps when he sees Connie smirking at him. "It's been forever since I had someone here to watch me play, _shut up_."

"I didn't say anything," Connie points out, just before their coach yells, "Change it up!" And for a while Foggy doesn't have to worry about anything except what's happening on the ice.

* * *

The fourth game they play since Foggy told Kate she could come, she's not there. He looks up in the stands during first intermission and can't spot her—and she makes an effort to be visible when she comes here.

Halfway through the second period he hears her, and something loosens in his shoulders.

The goal he scores has absolutely nothing to do with her sudden appearance.

After the game—a narrow loss—he barely catches her leaving the rink.

"You were late," he calls to her retreating back.

"I had paperwork," she snaps. She doesn't turn around to look at him, which is unusual. Kate likes to watch her comebacks land, even if they aren't very good. 

"Bishop, what gives?"

He can see her shake her head, hear the exasperated sigh that accompanies it.

"Kate? What's wrong? Are you okay?"

She utters a long-suffering groan before turning to face him. She's got her hood up, so he clumps on over to her, still half in his gear, and ducks his head--

"Holy _shit_ , Hawkeye!" The name comes out of him before he can stop it, because that's not a Kate-type injury, it's not even a vigilante-type injury, that's a superhero-shit type injury.

"Yeah, I figured I'd save you the trouble of explaining this to your friends," she barks a laugh, then winces. Foggy is honestly not sure how she'd managed to cheer without being in a lot of pain, before he realizes that she probably _was_ and just cheered anyway.

Foggy can't help his hands; he tilts her chin to better see the damage and she sighs. "I'm fine."

"Like hell," Foggy wonders what happened. "Did you get in a fight with a tiger? Those look like claw marks. How do you see to shoot?"

Under her swollen-shut eyelid he can see her eyeball attempt to roll; she winces again.

"Do you want me to walk you home? Or take you to a hospital?"

"I'm _fine_ ," she insists. "Been to medical. Matt already lost his shit over this, I don't need you fussing over me, too."

"Excuse me, when your face is half scratched off, I think it's called 'taking care of you' not 'fussing'."

"I've heard it both--"

"No you haven't," Foggy cuts her off. "Let me get out of my gear, I'll take you home."

She doesn't wait but she does send him a series of photos of the view from the rooftops and then her front door, accompanied by the text "I SAVE THE WORLD YEARLY I DONT NEED U TO WALK ME HOME FRANKLIN"

Which is followed by the text "i fell off the sidewalk ok maybe i did need to be walked home".

Foggy doesn’t say "I told you so", which he's very proud of himself for.

* * *

Kate has come to their past five games. She has come to more games in a row than Charlie, which—in Adam's eyes, at least—undermines Foggy's argument that they aren't dating.

Apparently, it's not enough for her to just come because she enjoys the game—and from what Foggy can tell, she enjoys the _hell_ out of it—she has to have some _other_ reason to come. Like the woman can't even get into a damn sport without having to have some sort of ulterior motive for it and _when did Connie become the voice in his head oh crap._

Foggy gets a little drunk and yells this at them after a game one night.

Adam looks abashed, Connie looks proud, and Charlie just nods and goes, "Well, yeah, but I've watched her watch games. She gets really into it."

"She gets really into everything," Foggy argues. "Literally and figuratively. Like walls and ceilings and trouble. She's my _friend_. Don't be dicks about it."

The vehemence in his voice surprises even him.

Whatever, it works. They drop it.

* * *

The night she finally joins them for drinks after a game—the eighth one she's come to--Foggy brazens up enough nerve to ask.

"Do I want to know how you found out I play hockey?"

"It wasn't on purpose. I wasn't trying to find out all your secrets," she blurts. "It was an accident. I was looking into this guy for some fraudulent documents and he used to coach kid's hockey. So I look into that, to see if I can find places he might be hanging out or people he might have talked to recently, which led me to Adam Banks, which led me to Hell's Kitchen Hawks and," she waves her hand in a rolling motion. "To you."

"Adam?"

"Yeah, he used to be on a team this guy coached--"

"Not Coach Bombay?"

"Who?" Kate looks mystified. "No, nobody named Bombay."

"Oh," Foggy feels an immense flood of relief. "Good."

They sit in silence after that, but it's a nice silence. An island of calm in the raucous bar.

"Have you told Matt?" Foggy blurts out. "About the hockey?"

"No." Now Kate looks a little affronted. "I told you I wouldn't."

"No, I just meant—how do you keep secrets from a guy who can tell if you're lying? Doesn't seem fair."

Kate tilts her head and regards him through unblinking eyes. Sometimes she's just Kate, and sometimes, like now, the bird in her really comes out.

"It's a work in progress," she says slowly. "Part of it is him not asking questions when I tell him not to. He knows that I go someplace to watch something sports related, but I told him it was something that wasn't mine to share, so he left it alone. He's also honest with me. Like you said, It's not fair if he gets to lie but I don't."

"How do you know he doesn't lie?"

"I don't. I have to trust him." The sigh she gives is half-exasperated, but Foggy doesn't think it's at him. "Which is hard, sometimes. For me."

"For anyone," Foggy says in an attempt to get the serious look off of her face. "It's hard for me, too. How much about me does he know that he can't tell me, or that I don't want him to know?"

Like that I'm in love with him, Foggy doesn't say. He gulps down the rest of his beer before the words can escape him.

"What, like that you're obsessed with Sailor Moon? Yeah, he knows that."

Foggy throws a handful of peanuts at her.

* * *

Foggy has, to be perfectly honest, a _spectacular_ number of bad ideas.

Inviting Kate to go ice skating with him is one of those bad ideas.

"How do you _not_ skate?" Foggy asks as he laces up.

Kate glares at him, which is fair. He probably could have been a little less incredulous.

"What, the ballet and fencing and gymnastics weren't enough?"

"Isn't that a rich kid thing, figure skating lessons?"

Kate throws one of her shoes at him. She misses, which is how Foggy knows she isn't really mad. Kate only misses on purpose. Her aim is too good.

She's good at a lot of things, but Kate is _terrible_ at skating. Like, really, really awful at it.  She hugs the boards as much as she can and doesn't trust her edges and falls three times in less than two minutes but she keeps getting back up and trying again.

It's doing strange things to Foggy's heart, which is probably why he stands in front of her, hands outstretched. "C'mon. I'm gonna teach you to fly."

He can see the _what the futz_ in her eyes but she takes his hands anyway.

"When you're skating, and you know the ice—it's like flying."

Her face lights up when she says _oh_.

Right before she overbalances and topples into Foggy.

"I can't really share my hobbies with people," Kate muses when she manages to get her feet under her for more than ten seconds at a time.

"Yeah?" Foggy prompts, watching her feet to see if he can give her any pointers. Her hands press and tug and pull as she balances and slips and occasionally glides.

"Most people aren't like 'hell yeah, teach me archery!' you know?"

"Really? Nobody's yelling 'Hey, Katniss, show me your ways!' after you shoot bad guys in the eye?"

Kate laughs at him but manages to stay balanced while she does it. Foggy is almost impressed.

"Well, I do wear a mask, it's not like people know it's me. And Matt's hobbies are punching, so those aren't as share-able."

"What's dating him like?" Foggy asks before he can stop himself.

"Why don't you see for yourself?" Kate retorts.

Foggy forces out a laugh because he's supposed to laugh, he's not supposed to say _fine sure okay let's go does now work?_

"It's nice to see you not be awesome at something," Foggy says when he catches Kate from falling for the fifth time.

"Gee, thanks." She shoves his hands away, which is a bad move that throws her off balance, causing her to overcorrect and...topple into Foggy.

"It's a compliment," he informs her, hands at her waist so she doesn't fall again. "You're great at, like, everything. You're an Avenger. It's nice to see that you're human, like the rest of us."

A flush creeps up Kate's neck and for a minute Foggy thinks it's from anger until she bites her lip, which is when he realizes she's blushing.

"What is this?" Foggy pokes at her cheek and she chuckles while swatting his hand away. "What? Is? It?"

"You called me an Avenger," she shrugs, trying to act like it's not a big deal when clearly it is, even if Foggy doesn't quite get why.

"Well, you are, aren't you?"

"Depends on who you ask."

"I've asked you, and you tell me all the time that you're an Avenger."

"Not everybody thinks that." Kate shrugs. "Like Tony Stark. And the media. And SHIELD."

"If I ever meet Tony Stark, I'll make sure to tell him all Hawkeyes are Avengers."

"So how'd you start skating?" Kate says after a few moments of silence.

"Oh, you don't want to hear that story."

"Yes I do. Why else would I have asked?"

Foggy chuckles. "Okay, then. I actually couldn't skate but I could shoot a puck like nobody's business. I actually didn't know how to skate when I joined the Ducks."

"You couldn't skate but you joined a hockey team?"

"Yeah. I broke one of Coach's car windows and—no, wait, it was two windows."

"And he had to have you on the team?"

"Yep. So he had to teach me to skate. I couldn't even rollerblade."

"Really?" Kate comes to a stop to look at him. "Seriously? You're screwing with me."

"Nope!" Foggy goes to raise his hands in surrender only to realize he's still holding Kate's hands. "Honest. Couldn't stay on my feet. Fell down all the time. Not quite as much as you."

"I'm going to ignore that in favor of urging you on to the part of your story where you played at TinyBaby Kiddo Olympics."

" _Junior Goodwill Games,_ and how did you know about that?"

"I know how to work the internet machine, Foggy. Also, Charlie told me."

They've made it down the rink and Kate hasn't fallen once, so Foggy starts loosening his grip on one of her hands.

"No! No! Foggy, don't you dare let me go, I swear to god--"

"Chill! I'm not letting go, I'm—well I am letting go, but just one hand--"

"I'm going to fall!"

"You fall all the time! I saw you fall out of a second-story window last week!"

"That was for work!" She squeezes his hand for all she's worth.

"Yeah, but look at you!" Foggy gestures with his free hand. "Skating almost entirely on your own. Very impressive."

"No it's not," Kate snaps. "There's a six-year-old over there spinning like a top and I can't even stay upright."

"What do you call what you're doing now?" Foggy points out. "And anyway, I wouldn't trust that six-year-old in a knife fight."

That does placate Kate, and they manage to make it around the rink one more time with minimal near-falls on Kate's part. "Okay. Back to what we were talking about before you were going to let me fall. Junior Goodwill Games."

"I wasn't going to let you—ugh. Fine. The games. Which we won. Well, we won. And won. And the lost, and Coach was a jackass, and then he wasn't--"

Kate huffs at him. "Is this really how you're going to tell the story?"

"How did you want me to tell it?"

"Details! Drama! Emotional revelations!"

Foggy laughs. "Okay, then. That was when we all knew that Adam and Charlie would wind up together, eventually. The Games were where Charlie realized he wanted to be a coach. It was what got the whole team accepted to Eden Hall, which is where I realized I didn't want to go pro—where a lot of us realized that."

"You were going to go pro?"

"Never seriously. Never as seriously as Adam was considering it. Russ and Jesse and Luis, they all went pro. Still offer the Ducks tickets every now and then. Luis has played for the Islanders for a few years, he does stuff for the kids in Adam's nonprofit, for the kids Charlie coaches." He pauses for dramatic effect. “I was also part of an enforcer duo. We were called the Bash Brothers.”

“You were _not_.”

“Were so.”

Kate looks like she doesn’t quite believe him, and also like she wants to laugh.

“I was also in a kind of emo phase for about ten years, and I dyed my hair black.”

“No.”

“Yep. You can probably look it up on your internet machine.”

Kate does just that, pulling them to a complete stop as she fishes out her phone and does a search. “Oh my god,” she says eventually. “There were even Bash Brothers shirts made for the Junior Goodwill Games. This is the greatest day ever.”

“Don’t tell Matt about the hair dye.”

Kate hums noncommittally as they start moving again. "So how do you go from headed-to-the-pros to lawyer?" Kate attempts a casual arm swing but doesn't have good enough balance for it yet and smashes into the boards.

"Coach was a lawyer, actually. And he was—he was trying to figure life out, but he still managed to be a good mentor. We'd talk, and talk, and," Foggy trails off. "He told me all the downsides to being a lawyer. The upsides. And, well," he shrugs. "I like winning. Lawyers should want to win."

Kate stops and stares at him, and he laughs. "I didn't say it was flattering. Just the truth. I went to college and got the chance to be someone different and...you know, it's weird. If not for Matt, I'd probably be the person Coach was before he was Coach. A dick," he says to Kate's bewildered expression. "Sometimes Matt's my conscience."

"Sometimes you're his."

Foggy doesn't have a response to that. They skate in silence for a few more minutes, Kate seeming to realize that Foggy needs time to digest this information.

"Couple more lessons, you could try out for the team," Foggy tightens his grip on her hand so he can bump her shoulder with his and not send her crashing down to the ice.

"Don't lie to me, Foggy. It doesn't suit you." Kate squeezes his hand back, but she doesn’t look about to fall.

Foggy glances at her out of the corner of his eye, the purple hat pulled over her dark braid, the determined set of her jaw and the fading bruise under her eye.

She catches his gaze and smiles, and there's a low voice inside him that just goes _fuuuuuuck._

* * *

"Hey," Foggy swallows his apprehension and ignores the way his gut twists. "Listen, um. I think it's a good idea for you to stop coming to games for a while."

"What? Why?"

"It's Adam," Foggy lies. "He—well, he knows that you weren't looking into him, but I still think it makes him a little uneasy, you know, being a PI and all. He's kind of worried that you _have_ been hired to look into him. And I've told him that isn't true! But you know how it is. Sometimes fear isn't logical."

Kate's face is—Foggy doesn't know how to describe her expression, but it makes him feel like shit. Kate looks worried and sad and embarrassed and _Foggy did that to her_ because he can't be a normal fucking person who doesn't fall in love with his friends.

"Oh, my God. I didn't even think about that. I just—I'm so sorry. I never think about that sort of thing, like, oh this PI is following me sort of thing," she rambles. "God. Tell him I'm sorry, Foggy, oh my God. I will totally stop coming to games. I'll cheer you guys on in spirit." Kate puts her hand on his arm and squeezes. "I didn't mean to weird out your friends."

Foggy feels another stab of guilt. Kate isn't fighting him on this because she _believes_ him, because he's Foggy and he isn't supposed to lie to her, not about stuff like this.

"Texting him to apologize would probably still be creepy, right? Right," she answers her own question. Her face is red and she's rambling and awkward. "I should have figured that, he's got that rich-kid-douche-dad thing going on, that would make _me_ uneasy--"

Foggy is a terrible person.

* * *

"So, I ran into Kate at a coffee place yesterday," is how Charlie greets Foggy after the third Kate-less game.

"Oh?"

Charlie stares at him, expression mostly blank. "Is there a reason she asked me to apologize for freaking Adam out? Because all Adam has said to me is how much he misses having the loudest person in the stands cheering for the team."

"Huh."

"Foggy."

"What?"

" _Foggy_. If you like her--"

"I'm not having this discussion." Foggy slams a drawer shut and stands so abruptly his chair skids back a foot. The last thing he needs is for Matt to get back from court early and hear this. "Did you need legal advice?"

"Do you _not_ like her?" Charlie says with the air of one covering all his bases.

"No, I like her, that's not the problem."

"So what's the problem?"

"You're not my team captain anymore, Charlie! My life is weird and I don't think I need advice from you."

Charlie stares Foggy down with a look that has clearly weathered worse insults from a hundred teenagers. Foggy quails under the look. "What happens," he says, voice quiet, "if I lose them?"

"I don't know," Charlie says, and that's the awesome, irritating thing about Charlie. He's so sincere, and he's not afraid to say he doesn’t know, and he's just so damn nice about it.

"Okay," Charlie says after a minute, moving to the door. "Okay. I just want to ask you one thing, though. What did we ever gain in life by playing it safe?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Foggy gets his shit together, with help. Matt and Kate make plans and then abandon them, because it's hard to remember plans when Foggy is all adorable right up in your space, or something. Matt will think of a good excuse later.

"You know you're being dumb, right?" Connie has never been one to mince words.

Foggy slams his locker shut. "About what?"

"You're going to act like that and then pretend you don't know what I'm talking about? Okay, sure."

"You know, everybody seems to have a lot to say about the state of my personal life," Foggy wishes he hadn't already slammed his locker because he'd like to do it again for effect. "But nobody--"

But nobody _gets_ it, he wants to say. None of them can relate to the whole vigilante thing on top of the unrequited thing, on top of the--

"You're right," Connie nods, grabbing Foggy by the elbow. "How can we get it if we don't know all the details? Time for a flock meeting."

"What?" No, that's not what I--"

* * *

 

They wind up in a diner four blocks from the rink, five of them cramming together when Charlie finally makes it.

Flock meeting. He thinks Hawkeye would get a kick out of that. She'd probably steal it for when she and the other Hawkeye team up with other birds. Falcon he's heard of, but Kate's also muttered about a Mockingbird once or twice.

He's so far gone it's not even funny.

"We're not talking about this," Foggy insists.

"Of course, Foggy," Charlie nods serenely. 

"Is it that Matt dude still?"

"Portman!"

"No, it's this girl, Kate," Connie procures her phone to presumably show a picture of Kate to Portman. "She's really nice. She's a PI."

"No Matt?" Portman sounds disappointed. "I liked that dude. Or I could have liked that dude if he hadn't been so oblivious to the Fogman."

"It's Kate," Connie insists. 

"No, it's Matt," Adam finally throws his hat into the ring.

"Guys." Charlie says in that infinitely patient way he has. "It's _both_."

"Ahhh," Connie nods as though the great mystery of her life has been solved. 

"That's rough," Adam gives Foggy a sympathetic look, even though Foggy is not a part of this conversation. He's ignoring it in favor of pancakes. "Since they're dating and all." Adam takes in all the bewildered and incredulous stares with a shrug. "What? I follow Kate on Instagram."

"That's not _rough_ ," Portman scoffs. "That's _easy_. Just date both of them."

Connie claps her hands together. "Yes! I like this idea!"

"Not everyone is open to polyamory," Charlie cuts in. "Before we start calling bad plays let's take a second--"

Portman puts his phone to his ear, ignoring all of them.

"To not make calls on other people's relationship--"

"Yeah, is this Kate Bishop, the PI?" Portman's words shut everyone else at the table up. "I was told you were the PI to go to. How do I see if you can help me?"

Foggy can hear the faint sound of Kate's response as she and Portman set up a time to meet. Foggy would probably be able to hear her better except that he struggles to rip the phone out of Portman's hand only to have Connie wrap her arms and legs around him so he's pinned and unable to perpetrate violence in their favorite diner again. 

"What the hell, guys?" Foggy pants when Portman hangs up. 

"I'll go in with a story about my boyfriend and our girlfriend and see how she reacts. It's a great plan."

"Well--" Connie pulls a face.

"That's actually a terrible, plan, Portman," Charlie has the sanity to call it like it is. "I mean, we'll go with it, but just for the record. Not the best."

"Not the best? Eh, I'll take it." Portman shrugs and steals a piece of bacon off of Foggy's plate.

The only reason Foggy doesn't stab him with a fork is because Connie is holding it hostage.

* * *

 

"You know he's lying, right?" Matt informs Kate when she meanders over for lunch. She had her meeting with Portman first thing that morning, and Foggy honestly isn't sure if he's better off not knowing what happened or if it would be better to know what Portman said.

"About what?" Kate swings into an empty chair, legs over the arm, reclining in a way that implies their chairs are comfortable, which they are _not_. 

"The boyfriend. The girlfriend. The kidnapping. All of it."

"The ransom note?"

" _All of it_ , Kate."

"Bogus." Kate slides so that she's upside-down in the chair, planting her palms on the floor. "Mondo bummer."

Foggy's palms have started sweating and he fights the urge to wipe them on his pants, trying to not draw attention to himself. If his heart rate increases there's nothing much he can do about it except hope Matt ignores it.

"What was his name?" Matt asks with an air of studied casualness. 

"Dean. Dean Portman."

Foggy swears before he can stop himself because Dean _used his real name_. 

"What? You recognize the name?" Matt turns to Foggy, tapping his fingers on the table. 

Foggy opens his mouth to tell them before he glances at Kate. Even upside down, he can see the strange way her face is pinched, glaring a little. "Foggy's allowed secrets," she informs the room at large before arcing her legs over her head and standing herself up.

"I never said he wasn't," Matt protests. 

"She just rolled her eyes at you," Foggy informs Matt out of force of habit. He has just enough time to regret it before Matt goes, "Wait, no she didn't. Did you?"

Kate is staring at Foggy and he doesn't squirm, not at all. "Sorry."

"No, it's fine," she tells him before turning to Matt. "I did roll my eyes at you."

"You don't believe--"

"You have trouble with letting people have secrets," Kate walks towards the door. 

"No I don't--"

"Oh my god. You _so_ do."

"I can't help it!"

" _Wow_ , what a cop-out. Just because I have perfect aim doesn't mean every shot has to be a kill shot. Just because you can hear everything doesn't mean you have to pay attention to it."

"That's a terrible comparison," Foggy tells Kate, only to get a glare of his own for his troubles. "Look, I didn't mean to start anything," he raises his hands in surrender.

"I'm not going to argue with you when you're this tired," Matt shoves his glasses back up the bridge of his nose.

"Excuse me?"

"You've had less than five hours of sleep in the past three days. I'm not going to argue with you when you can't even form a coherent thought."

It's been a long time since Foggy's been in a relationship, but even he knows that's about the worst thing Matt could say.

Kate sweeps past both of them, slamming the door with enough force to rattle the glass. 

"Hey! You break it, you buy it!" Foggy calls to her.

The slam feels like it echoes in the office, pushing through the silence to make Foggy feel shitty for causing a fight and shittier about his feelings for both of them and maybe the small part of him that's gleefully ready to swoop in and be the hero. "I didn't mean to start anything," he repeats helplessly, stomping down the asshole feelings. 

"You didn't. You mostly just unpaused something that had already been started. And she _is_ tired."

And maybe Foggy will hate himself for this later, but right now it seems perfectly reasonable to say, "Hey, you gotta crime fight tonight, or can you drink about it?"

* * *

 

A pitcher of beer and a few shots into the evening, and Foggy is delightfully numb to how much of a bad idea this is. He's ruffled Matt's hair approximately a million times and Matt keeps leaning into him, and he sort of wants to call Kate to try and fix things up between them.

Being slightly drunk on his way to a lot of drunk is clearing a lot of things up in his head—namely, that he doesn't resent Kate. He likes her a lot. He likes how having her around makes him worry less about Matt. It's not that he doesn't want them to be happy together. He just wishes he were more involved in their happiness.

That thought draws him up short, frozen with his phone in his hand. "Well, fuck." He _hates_ when Connie and Charlie and worst of all _Portman_ are right. 

He can practically _hear_ Kate's voice, that's how much of a far-gone loser he is--

"Did you call Kate?" Matt barrels into him, and Foggy catches him by the elbow, hauling him upright. 

"Dude, you gotta be careful with your equilibrium 'n shit," Foggy informs Matt, his hand somehow winding up back in Matt's hair. 

" _You_ gotta be careful with your equilibrium and shit," Matt counters. "Why did you call Kate?"

Now that he's paying attention, Foggy _can_ hear Kate's voice coming from his phone. 

"Kate!" Foggy drops his phone while trying to bring it closer to his face. Matt catches it, because of course he does. "Kate. Don't be mad at Matt."

"What?"

"Don't. Be mad. At MATT," Foggy tries to enunciate more. "He's a great guy. The best guy."

"Aw, man," Matt sags farther into Foggy. "No, man, you're the best guy."

It takes Foggy a minute to realize the noises coming from his phone are from Kate, laughing so hard she's snorting. 

"You're both awful, actually."

"I'm trying to be better," Matt says, suddenly stricken. 

"No, no, man, hey, you're great, you're so great, the best damn avocado ever--"

"Boys, I'm hanging up now. Please don't try to walk home."

"No, wait, no no nonononono," Foggy says with the frenzy of someone trying to stop another from ending a conversation. "No, you gotta be okay with Matt before you hang up."

"It doesn't count if he's drunk," Kate points out with all the obnoxious sense of a sober person. "Please be safe, boys. Good night."

* * *

 

Kate is back snoring in the air ducts between their offices again the next day.

It feels right. Back to normal.

Although Foggy isn't sure how Matt gets anything done when Kate snores so damn loud. It _echoes_.

* * *

 

Foggy is avoiding Kate as best he can. 

He's not doing particularly well at it, but he's trying, and that counts for something. Hopefully. It's hard because things have been slow for Kate, which means she spends more time over at their offices. Which is okay, because _they_ haven't been busy either. 

He's still kicking himself for drunk dialing her last week. 

It's just that he walked in on Kate and Matt making out, which isn't something he can handle in his life right now. Is he glad they've made up from their tiff? Yep. Does it make his drunk revelations much more painful? Hell yes. It's why he's at this too-loud club, trying to find someone to sleep with. 

He's hoping the noise and press of bodies will help drown out Kate's soft whimper when Matt had bitten her lip, or the old memory, still strong, of Matt's hands in Foggy's hair. 

It would be easier, in a lot of ways, to just drop in on Marci. Marci is great, but she'll look at him in the morning with that Look because she's always known the difference between Booty Call Foggy and Needs to Try and Stop Thinking About Someone Else Foggy. 

He catches sight of Portman at the bar, and that's almost as bad as Marci. Nobody can smell self-loathing like Portman. 

"Fogman!" The slap to Foggy's back sends him reeling forward. "Still living in denial, my man?" Portman looks him over. "This isn't what you need."

"A one night stand?"

"Nope," Portman slings his arm over Foggy's shoulders and drags him out of the club. "You've got hearts in your eyes and shit, anonymous sex won't help you here."

"I never thought I'd hear you say that anonymous sex won't help."

"I know, man," Portman laughs. "I'm growing as a person."

* * *

 

Portman drags him to the diner, where the rest of the team is waiting. 

Foggy knows an intervention when he sees one.

 

He's halfway to agreeing to go out with a friend of Connie's when the bell over the door rings and the people who are the very reason he is here walk in. 

Matt half-turns towards Foggy, because of course he knows Foggy is here.

Matt's arm is around Kate's waist and they both look like hell, though it's debatable which looks _more_ like hell. Is it Kate, with her black eye and a bruise purpling along her jaw, or is it Matt, with a gash held closed by butterfly bandages along his forehead, or his split lip and skinned knuckles.

Matt knows Foggy is here, because he has to, but Foggy is fine staying in his lane, letting them do their thing while he does his until his phone vibrates.

It's a picture of him in a booth at a diner— _this_ diner—from Kate, captioned "u gonna ignore or wat" so that decides that.

Kate presses her face against Matt's shoulder as Foggy slides into a seat across from them and tries desperately not to make eye contact with Adam. 

"Are they _spying_ on us?" Kate stage-whispers, looking up at him. Her pupils are huge and her skin is flushed and she just looks...wrong. "They can't spy on us. They haven't been trained."

"They're trying to be good friends to me, Kate. Back off."

" _You_ back the frick-frack tic-tac off," she snaps.

"Are you okay?" Foggy stares at Kate.

"Kate," Matt chides. "The only reason we came out was because you promised you'd eat."

"I'm going to eat but I can't eat _nothing_ , jackass," Kate snaps.

"She got doused with something," Matt tells Foggy in an undertone. "She got checked out and she's apparently fine, just needs to eat a lot to help metabolize--"

"Apparently _nothing_ , Matt! I'm fine! You don't argue with Mother Russia!"

"You're belligerent and hungry. That's not fine."

"I'm always belligerent and hungry."

"She's got a point," Foggy jumps in.

Kate points at Foggy with a fork but it's not threatening, more triumphant. " _Boom_."

"You should still eat," Foggy waves over the waitress. "Hey, Beth, can you get my friend here the Hat Trick and..." He looks at Matt, who gives the smallest shake of his head. No coffee, right. "Some of that crazy good juice you guys have been doing."

Beth smiles as him. "Coming right up."

"Did Foggy just order for me?"

"Did you _want_ to stare at the menu for twenty minutes while you tried to fight through whatever drug you've got in your system to focus long enough to read?" Matt turns to Kate so she can see his _are you fucking kidding me_ expression as he says this.

"Shut up," she says, burrowing down into the booth, pressing harder against Matt. Foggy jumps when her feet land next to his legs, trapping him. "Foggy, why did you dye your hair green?"

"I...didn't?"

"Ah. That's an interesting side effect."

Foggy pats her ankle. It's awkward, but Kate hums and smiles.

Matt bites back a laugh.

God, Foggy's so screwed.

* * *

 

"Hey!" Kate's voice comes from his right. "How are you doing? Do you need water? Food?"

"What?" Foggy tries to turn his head and his neck aches so hard he can't turn to see.

"Do you remember what happened?"

"Uh. Yeah, sort of. I have a concussion, right?" He remembers the doctor telling him that. He remembers being checked into the boards, and falling, and a skate cracking against his helmet. Blood on the ice, EMTs. He remembers Kate saying his name as a light burned each of his eyes. 

They may have been an ambulance involved. There's one thing he doesn't remember. "Babe, why are you here?"

"You told me I could stay. I can leave if you want, but Connie and Adam both had to go to work. And you kept telling her you had something important to tell me, so I stayed."

"Did I tell you?"

"Yeah." He can hear the smile in her voice. "You told me concussions really suck, and that--"

"I don't understand how you go through life with so many," he finishes. "Yeah, okay, I remember that."

"Also, there's probably a one-hundred percent chance that Matt is eavesdropping right now."

Foggy groans.

"So if you _don't_ want him to visit, you should probably let him know."

"Nah," Foggy says after a minute. "It's fine."

* * *

 

Matt comes by and Kate ducks out to talk to him in low tones before leaving. If Foggy knows her at, all, she's gone to get about a gallon of coffee.

Matt just stands against a wall, surrounded by an air of vague disapproval, as if he's the only one who's allowed to have a stupid number of bodily injuries.

"You called her babe," Matt informs him, a frown cutting deep lines across his face. 

"Did I?" Foggy tries to remember. "Probably. I mean, she is. I don't get why you don't call her that."

"Sounds better coming from you," Matt shrugs. 

Are hallucinations common with concussions? He'll have to ask Kate when she comes back, because there's no way Matt just said that. Or maybe he meant something different by it?

"So how'd you get a concussion, Foggy?"

"You don't—Kate didn't tell you?"

"No." Matt frowns again. "Said it wasn't her thing to tell me and to stop asking her."

"That's--" Foggy laughs even though it makes his head pound. "Kate's officially the best at keeping secrets."

"Can I know, then?"

Foggy thinks about it. "Not yet."

* * *

 

Matt doesn't press Foggy about how he got his concussion and accompanying injuries.

Concussions are really, really horrible, and Foggy can't believe he forgot how much they suck. 

It's not all bad, though. Karen brings him coffee and bagels for breakfast and Kate tries to stop by every few hours to remind him to take his pain medicine. 

And—this is something Foggy will take to his grave—Matt gives really good scalp massages.

* * *

 

Foggy's concussion is mostly gone; as some sort of cosmic trade-off, Matt is the proud owner of some cracked ribs and thirty stitches to keep his torso shut.

Kate has a broken nose, but she's still insisting on being a superhero or some shit.

"Make sure he doesn't try to do anything stupid."

"What?" Foggy pulls his head out from Matt's woefully understocked fridge.

"Make sure he doesn't try to go out," Kate yanks on her shooting glove. "I'll be fine on my own, and I don't need to worry about him bleeding out because he _can't listen_." The last part is clearly not meant for Foggy.

"Do you want help?" Foggy asks before he can think about how stupid it sounds. She's an _Avenger._ His ability with a hockey stick is not going to be helpful against the Latverian mob or a white-collar crime syndicate or her monthly intimidation-and-chess date with Victor von Doom.

The look Kate gives him is bemused rather than withering. "I just told you how you can help. Make sure he stays here. Sit on him if you have to,” Kate shrugs, bracing herself against the sill in what appears to be preparation to leap off the fire escape. He's about to point out to her that there's a perfectly useable door a few floors down when her words sink in. 

“Sit on him?” Foggy repeats with perhaps a little too much incredulity, since Kate whips her head around and her eyes narrow in a way that is utterly terrifying.

“I left you a sedative for him,” her voice is low and sharp in a way that makes Foggy want to see if he’s bleeding. “Use it if you have to. Sit on him, I don’t care, just keep him off the streets. If I have to go back out to rescue his dumb ass, I will be holding you responsible. Are we clear?” 

“Yes, ma’am,” Foggy manages to get out, which earns him a curt nod and a brief upturn of her lips before she’s launching herself out the window.

Foggy lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding before turning and walking to the bedroom. 

“Matt,” he hisses to the lump on the bed. “Please, man, please just stay here.”

Matt starts to laugh before wincing and trying to arch away from the pain in his ribs, which, good. He deserves it for being an asshole. 

“Your girlfriend is terrifying,” Foggy clarifies, perching on the edge of the mattress. “Holy shit, I thought she was going to burn my soul out with her eyes.”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Matt protests. “And she used to run a superhero team, you know that, but half of her team is—not human, and highly powerful. So she’s not usually terrifying as a means of persuasion, but when she is….”

”When she is, it’s the most terrifying thing ever?” Foggy finishes. “Wait. Not human? Does Kate know aliens?”

* * *

 

“Foggy,” there’s a tired voice at his back, and a warm weight pressing with it. “Foggy, scoot over. Scoot.” The person makes a noise that is a wet-sounding cross between a sigh and a snort right at the place where his neck meets his back, and Foggy never really knew what a _whuffle_ was but that’s it, right there.

The warm mass at his back prods him again and somewhere in the cottony recesses of his brain, he thinks, _huh, that’s odd_ , as he shuffles over before encountering another warm mass, all hard muscle, and--

_F_ _uc_ _k._

Foggy is very suddenly awake. 

“Ugh, you guys _suck_ ,” Kate is saying into his neck. “You couldn’t even wait for me? Guys, _one_ of you is eating me out when I wake up. Okay?”

“Foggy’s got a really nice mouth,” Matt offers _really unhelpfully_ from Foggy’s front. 

“ _Dude_ ,” Foggy hisses, feeling a flush start to creep up, full of horrified embarrassment and just plain horror. 

“’S’true,” Matt slurs a little.

”He told you I was okay with this, right Foggy?” Kate sounds a little more awake now than she did a minute ago. “Because I am.”

“Um, we didn’t really talk much.”

“ _Matt_ ,” Kate flops on her back, too tired to sound pissed but definitely pissed. “You _jerk_. You said you were gonna talk.”

“He’s got a really nice mouth,” and Foggy’s not sure how a man who’s practically asleep can sound so defensive.

"If you're about to use the phrase _the heat of passion_ , I'll kill you myself," Kate continues, though it's not really clear who this remark is aimed at. 

Foggy has never felt like a worse person in his life, willing to screw things up between the two of them so he could have _anything_ with one of them--

"Hey. I don't like that face you're making." And then somehow Kate is between him and Matt, a half-clumsy ballet move that reminds him of one of those cat videos that he definitely doesn’t send to Karen, staring right at him. “Foggy, hello,” she says, like she’s not a half-naked woman smushed between two naked men. “Matt and I like you. We would like to have sex with you. And breakfast. And dates. And kissing and stuff. We don’t,” her face scrunches up, sort of sad, “we don’t have to be a package deal, but we can be. I want to be friends with you, regardless because I know you like Matt, but do you like me, yes or no, and if I could get an answer before first period that would be great.”

“Yes,” Foggy says, like the words are in a fury to get out of his mouth. He doesn't know what the hell is going on, but _yes_ is clearly the only answer worth giving. “Yes, um, absolutely yes. Hell yes.”

“Yay,” she smiles and her eyes blink closed for a very long blink before she startles herself back up. “Be here when I wake up,” and it’s not really a request but Foggy answers anyway. 

“Absolutely.”

* * *

 

Foggy is still there when Kate wakes up because Kate, somehow, wakes up _first_. 

He knows this because the smell of coffee is what wakes him. It takes a moment for the events of last night to filter through his brain, but when they do, he bolts up and immediately begins searching for his clothes. He struggles into his boxers and jeans, yanks his shirt over his head, and rushes to the kitchen to try and do damage control.

Kate is sitting at the table, and there's a mug of coffee at the chair next to hers, steam curling invitingly into the air.

"Morning, Foggy," she says, voice bright if tired. "Sleep well?"

He sits next to her with a thump.

"Kate, I'm sorry--"

"No, Matt's sorry," she interrupts. "We had a plan and he fucked it up."

"A plan. For what?"

"Seducing you, clearly," Kate says, as if this is a perfectly normal series of events, two of the most attractive people Foggy's ever known teaming up to fucking _seduce him._ Yes, clearly this happens all the time. "Well, maybe not. _Seduce_ makes it seem kind of skeevy. Romance. We wanted to romance you. Well, I wanted to romance you, clearly Matt just wanted to seduce you--"

Babbling. Kate isn't a babbler, but she's babbling.

Again.

"Hey," Foggy gathers up all the courage he has and puts his hand over hers, squeezing. "I get it."

Kate falls silent. 

"Okay, I don't get it. But I can kind of get where you're headed. And I'm not opposed."

"Yeah," Kate smiles. "We know."

"You know?"

Kate flicks her eyes towards the bedroom, where Matt is still sleeping. 

"Oh. Right. You _know._ That's embarrassing."

"You get used to it," Kate turns her hand over to lace their fingers together. 

Foggy wonders if that's actually true. He looks at Kate then, for the first time since last night, and sucks in his next breath.

"What the hell did you do last night?" He reaches for her before realizing that might not be okay, his fingers stalling out near Kate's face. "Uh. This okay?"

"Sure," Kate shrugs like it's no big thing. "It's just a black eye, Foggy."

"It's not—it's— _you're in pain_ ," he tries to make her understand. "That's inherently not okay."

"I'm not in _pain_ ," Kate sounds completely mystified. "Well, maybe a little. But I'm not--"

"Dying? You're not dying, so it's okay? That's not okay, actually."

Kate opens her mouth.

Closes it.

Sighs. 

"Okay. Fine. I guess I should have expected--"

"Expected someone to use your own words against you? Yeah. You can expect that a lot. I'm a lawyer."

"So is Matt." Kate does that thing where she birds out, cocking her head to the side. "Is Matt—are you—are you a better lawyer than Matt?"

"No!" Matt's voice is muffled by a pillow. There is a large pause and Foggy raises an eyebrow at Kate just before Matt continues with "...maybe a little better."

 _Wow_ Kate mouths. Foggy pantomimes being bashed in the head, and Kate shakes in silent laughter.

"I don't have a head injury!" Matt still doesn't bother to move his head as he hollers. 

"You know, I don't think I'll ever believe that phrase coming from either of you ever again," Foggy decides.

"We'll see," Kate ducks in to give him a quick peck on the lips. It takes him by surprise, and even though by rights she should be moving slower than him since she was out all night fighting evil or whatever, she's out the door before he can react. He stays still, stunned, for a moment, before ambling back over to Matt's bed and flopping down next to him. 

"What's up?" Matt asks, finally turning his head away from his precious pillow. 

"Kate kissed me."

"Yeah," Matt rolls over on to his back, sprawling his arms out so he can touch Foggy's shoulder. "She does that."

* * *

 

"Foggy plays  _hockey_ ," Matt says three weeks later. The rink is mostly empty as they stand on the bleachers, voices carrying to the ice.

"He plays hockey really well," Kate pitches in. Bragging. Kate is _bragging_ about him. "He could have gone pro."

Sure, Foggy hadn't played much but it was nice to be back out on the ice again. To show off a little for Kate and Matt. Nice to be there for his friends, for his team.

Truth be told, it makes him feel better about the mission Kate is going on next week with her team. If this is how he feels about people he plays a sport with, how much more responsible will Kate and her team feel towards each other when their lives are on the line?

Connie waves at Kate, and Foggy feels a strange balance in this; he knows Kate's team and she knows his, and now Matt knows both of them.

Kate's scarf is slung low on her neck revealing a very large bruise that Foggy had put there, and out of the corner of his eye, he can see Adam nudge Connie and point it out to her. Meanwhile, Kate is talking to a perfectly innocent spectator, gesturing to Foggy and smiling. "That's my boyfriend," she says to the poor woman. Kate is holding Matt's hand as she says this, but Matt is too engrossed in a conversation with Portman to argue with her.

Argue with her about who's boyfriend Foggy is. Sometimes they trade off. It's the most stupidly endearing thing Foggy has ever encountered. 

He can hear Charlie regaling Matt with the story of the soft-hands drill, passing raw eggs back and forth across the ice, how the Hell's Kitchen Hawks should give the it a try, when Matt says, "We already know Foggy has soft hands."

Charlie chokes. 

Portman whoops. "Hey, losers! You owe me money!"

His teammates are staring at him and Kate is laughing so hard she might fall the rest of the way down the stands to the rink. 

Foggy can feel the blush but still grins because these people are idiots and awful but they're _his_ , and he can't imagine anything better.


End file.
